


Silence

by allofuswithwings



Series: Prisoner [2]
Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Intimacy, M/M, Oral Sex, Romance, Tenderness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-12
Updated: 2015-05-12
Packaged: 2018-03-30 05:36:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3924850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allofuswithwings/pseuds/allofuswithwings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Doctor never saved the Earth from the Master, and is now kept prisoner aboard the Valiant, for the Master to do with as he pleases.  This time, the Doctor gets an unexpected late night visit from the Master, and is baffled by his behaviour.</p><p>~*~</p><p>
  <i>“Master…?” he asked quietly, confused.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>He didn’t understand why the Master was in here like this.  Quiet, restrained and anonymously.  It wasn’t like him at all.  It was normally “pathetic humans” this, and “idiot Doctor” that, accompanied by beatings and degradation.  What was he playing at?</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Silence

**Author's Note:**

> A slightly sweeter and more angsty one of my old Who fics.

The Doctor was starting to doze when he heard it. The soft, dull padding of feet out in the corridor. Slowly growing closer and closer to the door of his room. 

His eyes flew open but he saw nothing. Everything was pitch black still. As it always was when the Master wasn’t there. Even out in the corridor the lights were off. And though the Doctor had extremely good eyesight, much better than any human, still he could see nothing. It was some kind of game the Master liked to play with him, to see how much solitude he could take. 

The Doctor sat up off the cold, tiled floor, his restraints clinking against each other and the ground as he moved. Both his hands and feet were shackled, though not together, just to chains attached to the wall nearby. Hence, he was forced to stay on hard, black tiles most of the time, with no place soft or comfortable to rest. 

He winced as he moved, his body aching from the hard ground, and limbs and face sore from the blows he had been dealt while here. The Master tended to slap him across the face a lot and yank on his hair while parading around him boasting, or subjecting him to other humiliating acts. 

The Doctor stilled himself, straining to hear, but the muffled footsteps had stopped. He held his breath, listening. He just barely heard the heavy clunk of the door being unlocked and the small squeak as the handle was turned. A slight breath of fresh air entered the room as the door was opened, and then clicked again as it was closed. 

The footsteps began again, slowly and quietly from the distant door toward where the Doctor was chained up. He frowned to himself, trying to figure out who it was that was entering his cell in the middle of the night in such silence. Normally the Master didn’t permit anyone else without his supervision, and it was always a grand entrance to gloat and insult the Doctor. 

“W-Who’s there?” the Doctor ventured, his voice raw. “If you’re one of the Master’s workers, I can help you if you help me.” 

There was no reply, just the constant footsteps growing closer and closer. 

“Whatever he’s threatened you with, I can help. I can keep you and your loved ones safe,” he continued. “Just help me escape from here.” 

The steps stopped as the person arrived next to where the Doctor was sitting. He tried to stand but his shackles were too tight and his legs too weak. The person’s clothing rustled as the knelt down next to him, and the Doctor reached forward, attempting to grab hold of whoever they were. 

He swiped at the air a few times before he managed to grip their arm, and he moved himself toward them, his hands beginning to run up their arms to their shoulders. The Doctor’s hands moved under their chin to cup their face, but he then jerked his hands away in surprise. 

“Master…?” he asked quietly, confused. 

He didn’t understand why the Master was in here like this. Quiet, restrained and anonymously. It wasn’t like him at all. It was normally “pathetic humans” this, and “idiot Doctor” that, accompanied by beatings and degradation. What was he playing at? 

“Trying to sneak up on me to see if I’m afraid of the dark?” the Doctor asked dryly. “Or just trying to send me crazy in this empty room alone?” 

The Master didn’t say anything. Not even a laugh or a snort. Nothing at all. He wasn’t gloating, he wasn’t goading, and he wasn’t being violent. Maybe he was ill, and had come into this room by mistake. Maybe he had gone completely mad, finally. The Doctor frowned, squinting in the dark to try make out some shapes, but to no avail. 

He jumped as he felt the Master’s hand touch his arm, gently holding it as he ran it up to the Doctor’s shoulder. His hand then slowed as it crossed over and up the Doctor’s neck, to cup his face. The Master’s thumb stroked gently back and forth across his cheek. 

The Doctor sat frozen in shock. He had no idea what was going on. This wasn’t how the game was played. He was the Master and the Doctor was the servant. The Master was dominating, brutal and did what he liked, and the Doctor just had to put up with it. But this wasn’t forceful or demanding. He was being soft and… tender? 

The Doctor’s head was reeling as he felt the Master’s other hand caress the back of his neck and then slide up into his hair, his fingers running through his short, brown tresses. He swallowed and then opened his mouth to speak, but couldn’t actually think of anything to say or ask. 

He suddenly wondered if he had got it wrong; that maybe this wasn’t the Master, just someone pretending to be him. Why they would be doing this, he had no clue, but it was a possibility. 

That idea soon flew out the window as he felt lips press gently against his own, coaxing him into a slow, warm kiss. The Doctor knew that mouth, those lips, and it was definitely the Master, though he had never experienced a kiss like this with him before. It was usually rough and uncomfortable, and an unrelenting tongue. The Master’ tongue now only ventured tentatively into the Doctor’s mouth, as though unsure or nervous. 

The Doctor responded hesitantly, worried that if he didn’t, there would be more beatings on the way. But somehow, he didn’t think so. This was something else entirely. 

His chains rattled as he reached up, placing a hand affectionately against the Master’s cheek, who broke their kiss to nuzzle his face against the Doctor’s touch. It was then that he let out his only sound all this time; a sigh. The Doctor’s eyebrows arched in surprise, and he wondered what could possibly be going on inside the other man’s head. Well there was one way to find out. 

The Doctor quickly moved his hands up to place his fingers against the Master’s temples, his thumbs bracing them, and then squeezed his eyes shut, concentrating. There was a small, blue surge for a moment but then nothing. The Master was blocking him; he couldn’t see inside. 

“Let me in…” the Doctor whispered. “I want to see…” 

The Master reached up, gently removing the Doctor’s hands from his head and taking them in his own. He then captured the Doctor’s mouth in a kiss again, this time more passionately, though still lacking any force or intimidation. His tongue was warm and inviting, and the Doctor yielded to the affections, intrigued by the sudden change of tactic. 

And after all he had been subjected to recently, he welcomed the more friendly attentions, and appreciated how it soothed the lonely ache he had been carrying deep inside for so long. This man understood almost everything he had been through; despite not necessarily being there, he was aware of the struggle and heartbreak of being a Time Lord. And maybe that’s what this was about now for the Master; he was lonely. 

The Doctor wasn’t going to refuse him if that was the case, and so ran his hands over the smooth skin of the Master’s throat and down his neck to the top of his chest. It was then he realised that the Master wasn’t wearing his usual suit or even just his shirt and trousers, he was clad only in his long, silky dressing gown. The Doctor had felt what a mess his hair was too, and figured he must have just woken up, either it being morning or still the middle of the night. 

The Master’s hands seized on the Doctor’s shoulders, pressing him back to push him against the wall behind them. His lips never left the Doctor’s, and still no sound escaped his throat, the only noise being his rapid breaths and the increasing of his double-time heartbeats. The Doctor too could feel in his veins, the rushing of blood and inundation of hormones, as the Master’s hands left his shoulders and began wandering over his shirt-covered chest. 

The hands explored, curious and captivated by the shapes of the Doctor’s body. His fingers traced under each curve of muscle and dipped into the valleys between his ribs, before making their way back up to the Doctor’s exposed collarbone. It was then the Master began working on the buttons of his shirt, undoing them slowly and with slightly shaky hands. No tearing or breaking this time, just gentle movements of undressing to claim his prize. 

Once the Doctor’s shirt was unbuttoned fully, the Master broke their kiss and shifted his body to straddle him against the wall. There was another soft sigh, the Doctor wasn’t exactly sure who from, as their bodies pressed together. The hard presence of the Master’s excitement was evident against his lower abdomen, though still covered by the thin material of his robe. The Doctor was slightly surprised to find himself also firm under the Master’s weight. 

The Master’s hands now returned to the Doctor’s body, this time accessing the bare flesh of his chest, eager and yearning in their exploration. The fingers pressed and rubbed against the smooth surface, determined to touch every area of skin available to him, his quick breaths loud in the dark of the room as he did so. 

The Doctor just sat there, somewhat dazed by what was being done to him, but still felt the warmth of desire burning through him as the other man touched him, so desperately and intimately. The hands progressed downward, toward his stomach, and then paused there a moment to examine his belly button gently. A sigh of ticklishness escaped the Doctor’s lips at this, and he smiled slightly, though he knew the Master couldn’t see it. 

The smile faded when the hands moved lower onto his abdomen, and fingers began playing around the waistband of his trousers. The Doctor took in a sharp breath, and felt himself twitch, as the Master’s fingers pushed under the waistband, caressing the skin there and coming achingly close to the hard warmth gathering there. Still, the fingers played, teasing and tormenting, and the Doctor couldn’t help the choked whimper that escaped him in frustration. 

At this, the Master removed his fingers and instead moved his lips to the Doctor’s skin, kissing and licking his way across his chest in desperation. His mouth wandered down, resting around the Doctor’s ribs before tilting his head up to wind his tongue against the nearby nipple. The Doctor let out another throaty murmur at the strange sensation, his hands clawing at the Master’s head, overloaded by the intensity of this experience. 

The Doctor’s stomach began to rumble in nervousness as the Master’s head moved lower and lower, trailing kisses across his belly and down to his abdomen. He shivered at the hot breath that blew in short gasps against the skin of his lower abdomen, and the tongue that darted out along the waistband of his trousers. He was trembling at the feel of the Master’s mouth so close to that certain part of him, and didn’t know if he could take much more. 

The kisses and touching was okay, the Doctor understood the need for closeness, but what he feared was coming up next was just too much for him. He couldn’t comprehend the thought of the Master doing that act to him, it was much too personal, and was something they had never done. Sure, the Master had forced the Doctor to do it to him, but that was different; it was a dominance play. 

The Doctor breathed a sigh of relief as the Master’s lips trailed back up his body, away from his trousers, and sealed his mouth in a kiss again. He jumped as he felt hands fiddling at his fly, and let out a soft groan as the Master slipped a hand inside his now undone trousers. His touch was gentle and slow, and the Doctor leaned his hips up in frustration, the teasing driving him slowly mad. In reward, the Master took a firmer hold of him, and pushed down his trousers to expose the Doctor to the warm night air. 

The Doctor’s heart raced as his body surged with desire and pleasure from the precise, insistent motions of the Master’s hand on him, and he deepened the kiss they were engaged in. He could feel the stiffness of the Master under his dressing gown still, yearning and desperate, and the Doctor reached down to repay the satisfaction. But the Master swiped him away, and the Doctor frowned in confusion, breaking their kiss, and causing the Master to cease his touch also. 

They both remained still for a moment, the only sound their heavy breaths in the silent room, now warm and damp from their aching passions. The Doctor reached up, touching the Master’s cheek with the back of his hand tenderly. His face was hot, and hair stuck messily to the sides of his head, and the Doctor wished he could see the expressions playing out on his features. 

The Doctor ran his thumb down to graze over the Master’s lower lip, resulting in the Master taking it into his mouth and sucking on it slowly. The Doctor swallowed, his mind filling with all sorts of inappropriate thoughts about the talents of that mouth elsewhere, and he struggled to keep his sanity in the haze of all this sexual intensity. 

The Master ceased his work on his thumb and returned his mouth to the skin of the Doctor’s body, now sucking and nibbling his way down his throat and chest. The Doctor tried weakly to protest, aware in the back of his head what was about to happen, pressing his hands against the Master’s shoulders. But the Master ignored him, his mouth continuing it’s journey lower, coming to the Doctor’s stomach and where his excitement was now free and evident. 

The Doctor clawed at his head, trying to drag him up as the Master’s mouth danced agonisingly close to his erection, his breath coming in desperate gasps. 

“No…wait…” he pleaded. 

The Master moved his hands between the Doctor’s legs, taking hold of him, causing him to grunt in response. 

“You can’t…it’s not supposed to…” the Doctor breathed, his head spinning. 

He could feel the Master’s breath just over him, his mouth so close to the straining head. 

“Master, don’t… oh…” 

His words trailed off, replaced by a guttural moan as he felt the Master’s moist lips just begin to taste the tip of him. The Doctor’s body throbbed and shook in yearning for more, but his head was telling him this wasn’t the way things were supposed to be. It was all too much, too personal, too intimate. And still the Master wouldn’t speak, wouldn’t even make sounds of pleasure. The silence was killing him. Stripping away his sanity. 

The Master’s mouth was soft and slow on him, only taking him in bit by bit, guided by his hand at the base of the Doctor’s shaft. The Doctor choked and squirmed, his hands grabbing at the Master’s head, taking handfuls of his short hair and trying to regain some control of himself. But that was soon lost when the Master’s tongue joined his lips in tasting him, sliding precisely over the head and around to the ridges at the front. 

A string of Gallifreyan expletives escaped the Doctor’s lips at this, and he felt the Master smile against him, pleased at the effect he was having. The Master further opened his mouth to take him in more, edging his lips down the shaft while also writhing his tongue at the same time. The Doctor shuddered, hearts racing and the pleasure escalating in his body, bringing him closer and closer. 

“You have to…stop…” he gasped. “You can’t…” 

He was cut off again by his own noises of enjoyment; a throaty moan emerging from him as the Master pressed himself down, taking the Doctor deep in his mouth. The wet, firm sensations on his erection caused him to take heavy, sharp breaths, trying to contain the waves of pleasure that surged through his body and up toward that knife-edge. Any moment he felt like he might fall, the motion of the Master’s head up and down on him filling him with such satisfaction that any sense of loneliness he felt seemed to fade away. 

The tension was built so high within the Doctor he felt like his body might fail, and not contain the raw sexual energy and fire he experienced as the Master’s mouth continued to work on him. His hands ran through the Master’s hair, grabbing and grasping in agony and passion, and he desperately wished he could see the Master’s face or hear his voice. Anything just to know what the other man was thinking, feeling, wanting. 

The Doctor’s hands again traced to the Master’s temples, probing and hoping to push his way in his mind to get some kind of glimpse. But still there was nothing. He wouldn’t let him in. Wouldn’t give him any indication of what this was, what this meant. 

“Please…” he begged, his voice barely audible. 

But he wasn’t even sure what he was asking for anymore. To let him in? To stop what he was doing? To give him more? The Doctor’s head was full of so many thoughts, and clouded by passion, he couldn’t think straight. 

His body was tight and damp with sweat, his shirt pushed along to his shackles and his trousers shoved down to allow the Master better access. The Doctor’s belly was taut with desire, the rushing of blood so loud in his ears now, that he knew it wouldn’t be long before he slipped over that edge. 

“Master…” he murmured. “I’m… going to…” 

As if to recognise this fact, the Master took him deeper, twisting his tongue against the shaft as he increased his motions and gripped the Doctor harder with his hands. The Doctor whimpered, trying pitifully to hold back the flood of pleasure that was about to break through. His hands gripped the Master’s hair hard with one hand, the other still at his temple, his body poised for release as he teetered on the threshold. 

When the Doctor came, he felt the Master’s mind give, and his head filled only with the sound of drumming, while his body spasmed and shook with ecstasy. The Master’s name fell from his lips as he released himself into his mouth, the Master sucking and tasting him completely as he did so. All the Doctor could feel was the force of orgasm pulsing through him into this other man, so easily, so blissfully, feeling like it would never stop. 

The Master kept him in his mouth until the euphoria faded, drawing every last bit of his release out of him. The Doctor let out a sigh and twitched as he removed his mouth and let go. His body felt too weak to question or help when the Master began redressing him, doing up his fly and buttoning up his shirt again. He just lay limply against the wall in his shackles, head spinning and body throbbing with satisfaction. 

When he was done, the Master shifted his body to sit up closely beside the Doctor, his nose grazing his cheek and one hand on his chest. They just sat quietly for a moment, together in the dark room, the Doctor’s body beginning to tremble from the previous exertion. The Master’s hand moved up to cup his cheek and his lips captured the Doctor’s once more, this time a slow, shallow and tender kiss. 

“Why did you…?” the Doctor began, when they broke apart. “I don’t understand…” 

Again, the Master didn’t reply, just sat there, his hand still holding the Doctor’s face and one leg slightly wrapped over his. It was then that the Doctor noticed him pressed hard against his leg, and realised the Master was still breathing fairly hard. 

Feeling appreciative, the Doctor reached over to place his hand on the Master’s thigh, running it slowly up the silken robe to between his legs. The Master choked at this, and his hands flew down to still the Doctor’s, pushing him away. The Doctor frowned, perplexed. 

“I want to…” he murmured. 

He tried again to touch the Master in the way he obviously craved, but again he was shoved away, denied access. The Master shifted, sitting up and moving away from the Doctor, who scrambled to follow him. He was yanked back as he reached the length of his chains, and the Doctor let out a frustrated sigh. 

“Why did you do this?” he asked, more firmly now. “Why don’t you want anything in return?” 

The Master, now standing, leant forward and took the Doctor’s face in his hands again. He dipped in for one last kiss, responded to by a grateful but confused Doctor. The Doctor felt him smile as they separated and then he was gone. 

The Doctor heard the soft, dull padding of feet beginning to fade away, toward the door, and he sighed to himself. He didn’t understand what all of this was about, and he figured he might never know. 

The Doctor sagged down, back against the wall, listening to the soft clink of his chains, the diminishing footsteps of the Master, and the tap, tap, tap, tap of faint drumming in his head. 


End file.
